A Villanelle

And here I sit alone, home all alone
But for some midair specks of dust
The sun picks out, no longer unknown.

Once filled with chatter, my friends have flown
From these blue rooms. Their jokes have no thrust
Now that I’m alone, home all alone.

These stamps I place on letters to them seem sown
Together, the ribbed edges waving trust.
The sun picks up, no longer unknown

To lazy, unmoving birds who sing and moan
And warm their branches which cast off the rust
Of winter. I’m alone, home all alone.

I open the windows to hear
More clearly, lazy, even notes though the gust
Sharpens and picks up. No longer unknown,

The sun atones, the wind atones, and now,
How now? my heart atones to find a lust
For life. And here at home, I sit alone.
The sun picks me up, no longer unknown.

-EWW